


L'appel du Vide

by cremedelacreme



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: And a horrible dancer, And so does Sebastian, Ciel is grumpy, F/M, Gothic Romance, No season 2, OC has her secrets, Romance, Sebastian is creepy, Slow Burn, Sorry Not Sorry, a bit of cursing but not anything too bad, a bit rapey, sorta follows canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-25
Updated: 2016-04-29
Packaged: 2018-06-04 09:49:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6653026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cremedelacreme/pseuds/cremedelacreme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Madeline sees an advertisement for governess in the Phantomhive household, she is sure that her talents will be appreciated in service to the Queen's Guard Dog. Of course, she knows of the dangers in this household, of what will be expected of her, and she is sure that she is more than ready.<br/>What she is not so sure of is the origins of the handsome butler, Sebastian Michaelis.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Tarty Meetings

I sat back on my old, lumpy chair, pen resting on the header of the last clean stationary I owned. At the back of my mind, I always knew that the real world was heartless and cruel for a young woman with no family, but to actually face these realities head on was a much different experience. If life had been kinder on my poor soul, I would not have to debase myself so much, but one needed to survive, whether one is a man or a woman. I took in a deep breath and started to write.

 

To Mr. Sebastian Michaelis,  
Head Butler of the Phantomhive Estate,

It has come to my understanding that the prestigious Phantomhive Household is in need of a governess, which has lead me to humbly offer myself for the position. In your advertisement, it most eloquently states that the attributes you seek for such a distinguished and trusted position is, and I quote “that this lady has undergone formal schooling, is in possession of initiative and good judgment, and, most importantly, has a character that values loyalty above all.”  
I believe that I posses all these attributes, and shall do my best to present them in the most modest way possible.  
Just one year ago, I have graduated top of my class in St. Catherine’s Finishing School for Young Women, and have spent six moons teaching at Sir Mark’s School for Young Noble Men, and am now dividing my time in the trade of a journalist and organizing the great shelves of the London Library.  
I assume that you have heard of the reputation of the schools I have learned in and worked in, and I assure you that I have been most prodigious in all the subjects presented to me in the duration of my stay.  
As for initiative and good judgment, I find it a shame that there is no way a human being can be connected to a device that can measure one’s so called ‘common sense,’ though in the one and twenty years I have been alive, I know that I can say that I posses these qualities in an amount that you and your Master would find most pleasing.  
At St. Catherine’s, we girls are taught the moment we enroll that you are not worth a penny unless you can guard a secret. Given the nature of the Earl Phantomhive’s job, I can assure you that I would never, and indeed could never, be prompted to give an ounce of information regarding my employer. Such is the job of an employee, and if I fail these standards, then you are free to rid the Phantomhive Household of my services.

Mr. Michaelis, I sincerely hope that you will reply speedily to my letter, and with the best of news. I look forward to your response with the greatest anticipation.

Sincerely,  
Miss Madeline Sinclair

 

I put my pen down, and read my letter many times, checking for any errors in grammar or spelling. When I found none, this letter, which I hope would be the key to a brighter future, was tucked into a crisp envelope, which in return was tucked in my threadbare purse.  
I stood up to leave; the letter won’t reach the Phantomhives all by itself, after all. I silently dreaded the action, however. Fifty pence spent mailing was fifty pence too much.

After my response to the advertisement, I divided my time between the London Library and writing for a cheap newspaper. There was not much a woman could do or say, so I had to submit my articles under the pen name John Argon, which for the sake of humor I signed J. Argon.  
After submitting a work of political satire and receiving quite the paycheck for it, my hopes that I would get accepted were quite high, and I allowed myself moments at night where I would fantasize about this new prospect.  
The Earl Phantomhive would be strict and a tad bit spoilt, but a quick learner and an avid reader. The butler, Mr. Sebastian Michaelis, sounded old fashioned, as if he would be a dear old man who possessed a deep understanding of the world and a respect for knowledge. The manor would be grand, bigger than anything I have ever seen. But I drift off to sleep before my thoughts could get any further.  
A week passed by without any reply, and the hope that this Mr. Michaelis would write back slowly dwindled and died. So, after feeling the need to be in greater spirits, I headed to the local pastry shoppe and bought a tart that would cheer me up as I headed back home from the London Library.  
My shifts end at eight in the evening, a time where any respectable woman of high moral standing would not even dare to venture alone. But I had a different set of very special skills, so I was quite confident that I would not be too horribly harassed.  
During the day, London was busy and harsh, a well-oiled machine that was the pinnacle of the modern industrial age, but at night there was something that came in to play. If I was superstitious, I would remember the times where witches were feared and wonder if they still lurked today, but I am merely whimsical at times, so I dream of the day when I would see London as something more than a great automaton.  
I finished the last bit of my tart as I headed into a dark alley that would lead to my lodgings. I could see men under a gas lamp, playing cards and drinking. No matter, I thought to myself. Just walk straight and they won’t notice you.  
But I had no such luck; a young woman was always noticed, regardless of whether or not she was actually beautiful.  
“Hey, pretty lady,” came the wretched slur of a balding man. “Why dontcha’ spend some quality time with me an’ ma mates?”  
I did not stop walking and spared him no look.  
The sound of broken wood soon followed, with angry footsteps seeming to be the encore.  
“I said come here, you bitch.”  
I wrinkled my nose at the foul language, but paid him no heed. To acknowledge him was to put myself at his level.  
“You little slut!”  
I sensed him behind me, and quickly spun around, sending a swift but strong strike to both his windpipe and head, knocking him out. I would have left this place directly, but the man’s friends were now quite drunk and angry, and started attacking me.  
Drunk number one swung his bottle at me. I dodged at his side, catching holding of his arm and easily broke it. Number two started shouting incomprehensibly, and had somehow summoned a knife. Assuming a boxing stance, I evaded his sloppy attacks and knocked him out with a quick punch to the face. Number three and four had been idle, but after seeing me decapitate their friends, they felt the strange call of manliness and felt the misguided, drunken need to protect their honor. Number three tried to grapple me, and number four was going to punch me, and they were coming at opposite directions, so I merely stepped out of the way and let them collapse into a pathetic mess.  
Oh, well, I thought. At least I had a chance to exercise today.

I made a move to leave, but before I could take a step, a single person’s clap echoed through out the alley. A dark figure stepped into the light, slowly revealing the shadowed feature of a pale man dressed in a well-tailored butler uniform. I frowned. Why would such a man be here?  
“Bravo,” he said, his voice cold and tempered like steel. I straightened my back. This might be the pawn of some gross noble man who wanted a pretty plaything.  
“Is there something you need assistance of, sir? I know of a good bakery not far from here. I believe they are still open at this hour.”  
“We are at a misunderstanding, Miss Sinclair. It is I who can help you, for you see, I am Sebastian Michaelis, butler to the Earl Phantomhive, and after your display tonight, I would like very much to hire you as governess.”  
I nodded, trying very hard not to stare at the man who was growing much more attractive by the minute. It was strange; I have never been so tempted before, have been so distracted by a man. All those nights, I pictured a plump, old man, and here, in the night, I find out that Mr. Sebastian Michaelis is instead a good-looking young man whose age could not be much older than mine. Oh dear, I thought. Being professional with him would be an uphill battle, indeed.  
Nodding slowly, I smiled. “I am glad to hear the news. Now why don’t we go get a little snack as celebration? After this little squabble, I’m feeling quite peckish myself.”  
Mr. Michaelis nodded and smiled back, which reminded me of a memory of my cat, Howard, playing with a bird right before he ate it. It was quite strange to be suddenly reminded of a thing that happened so long ago. But such wanderings of the mind would not feed me, so I earnestly pushed that thought away and accepted the arm Mr. Michaelis had so kindly offered me.

“Lead the way, Miss Sinclair.”

 

After being a gentleman and paying for my croissant, he continued to charm me and escorted me to my dwelling. I, of course, had insisted that I would be just fine, but he smiled a closed eye smile, and told me that he believed in my prowess, but thought it wise to know where I lived, so he could easily pick me up on the morrow.  
We had discussed the education of the young Earl, as well as his temperaments. His lowest points were geography and literature, and his best were arithmetic and language.  
Ciel Phantomhive was well versed with both piano and violin, to my delight, and was an amateur rider and fencer. With much regret, I was told that his Lordship distanced himself from dancing. Mr. Michaelis told me of his penchant for sweets, and I was secretly happy. Perhaps when the boy was being difficult, I could bribe him.  
I was deeply impressed when Mr. Michaelis confessed that he was the one who tutored Ciel in the Arts, and had given my sympathies when I learned that his previous governess had passed away due to illness. When he finally saw me to the building of my apartment, he took my hand and brushed my knuckles against his cold lips. I was entranced, and did not move until he had disappeared into the London fog. 

As I finished packing my things for tomorrow’s journey, my body felt weary, and I promptly fell asleep, unaware of the demon whose hand was ghosting up my thigh.


	2. Salmon and Suspicions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Madeline is escorted to the Phantomhive Manor, where she wonders if there is something more to the utter perfection of her escort, Sebastian Michaelis.

I woke up slowly, feeling strangely fulfilled. Perhaps it was from having quite the snack before going to bed, or learning that, from this day on, I was employed to a reputable Master. I hopped off my bed, eager to get ready, and promptly forgot that strange feeling.

I dressed in a simple black and white dress, and fetched a parasol to carry since the day seemed to promise rain.   
I had to wait no longer than eight o’clock for Sebastian to come, and like the gentleman he is, he offered to carry my suitcase and was able to easily stored it in the carriage.   
He helped me up before slipping beside me and taking hold of the whip and reigns. After all, only nobles sat inside the carriage.  
I watched Mr. Michaelis take hold of the long piece of leather. It was strangely erotic, the way he gripped it with his white gloves, and I found myself wondering things I don’t dare confess.   
After a moment of silence, I tore my eyes from the sight and proceeded to ask him how long the journey would take.  
“Oh, an hour if it doesn’t rain. An added half if it does. And how about you, Miss Sinclair? I hope you slept fitfully.”  
I laughed good-naturedly. “Yes! I normally wake due to the commotion in the streets, but I suppose the excitement from yesterday left me more tired than I thought.”  
“And are you feeling tired, Miss Sinclair?” His voice was rich and exciting, and I found myself responding too easily.  
“Not in the slightest, Mr. Michaelis.”  
Then at that moment there was an unforeseen bump on the road, which made me jump closer to Sebastian, and I unconsciously place a hand on his thigh to stabilize myself, which made him look at me in dark amusement.

“Sorry, Mr. Michaelis,” I apologized quietly, horrified by my sudden lack in manners.   
“I didn’t mean to put my hand… Er… That was… quite an accident.”   
How rude, how impolite, how strange of me to do that, and yet, I took my hand from his thigh half-heartedly.  
Mr. Michaelis just continued to look at me, and I notice the silent laughter in his rose colored eyes.  
“And I’m more sorry you removed it,” I though I heard him say.

 

 

We continued the ride to the Phantomhive Manor with no rain, and most blessedly, no more conversation. It was quite awkward, and it completely unlike me to be affected by a man such as him.   
He was handsome and quite the gentleman, but there was something off about him, a certain malice, a certain sadism, that I could not quite place or recognize. I should have felt ashamed to have picked up on such things, but all I felt was misplaced excitement. I already had inkling as to what Mr. Michaelis could be, but I did not want to say anything, for I just might lose my life.

I met the Earl Phantomhive late that morning, and was invited to luncheon so we could discuss what his curriculum would be, what my schedule would look like, and what was expected of me, which was complete and utter secrecy.  
It was a joy to dine with a young man with high standards and good tastes. Ciel Phantomhive was a serious and somber young man, I respected the gravity he projected. He had told me of what exactly he dealt with on a daily basis, and warned me that the missions from the Queen were more important to him than his education. I had whole-heartedly agreed.   
I told him that I had met his predecessor, Lord Vincent Phantomhive, and told him that his mother Rachel was one of the brightest students of St. Catherine’s. While he delicately cut a piece of salmon, (I was positively drooling over his excellent table manners) he asked me to indulge the nature of my school to him. Seeing as how my loyalties were now with him, I happily obliged.  
“My lord, St. Catherine’s is an institute that welcomes every sort of lady no younger that twelve and no older than fifteen. The girls graduate at the age of eighteen, and if they feel the need, stay for two more years to either teach the underclassmen or undergo extensive additional training. I did both. We are taught the every virtue of the modern woman, from curtsying to debating, cooking to German, and the fine art of what Headmistress Curror calls ‘finishing,’ which is basically assassination. Espionage has also been taught many times in St. Catherine’s curriculum.”  
Ciel Phantomhive nodded, and I knew not whether he was impressed or not.  
“And my predecessor had her education there?”

“Indeed, my lord.” So it seems that he does not like saying her name. “She is something of a legend in the school. The late Earl visited St. Catherine’s for a mission from the Queen, and that is how they met. I believe Angeline Durless never went to St. Catherine’s since she chose to pursue medicine.”  
The Earl nodded, and after he took a final sip of his water, rose from the table. “Sebastian, take Miss Sinclair to her room and help her unpack. Afterwards, introduce her to the staff and take her on a tour.” He sent one last look in my direction before leaving. “I look forward to our lessons tomorrow, Madeline.”  
I rose in respect and gave a polite curtsy. “The feeling is mutual, my lord.”

 

Once Ciel left, I turned to Sebastian Michaelis. “Is it a habit of his to address people by their first name?”  
He donned a face of concentration. “Yes, I believe so. Perhaps it is to establish dominance over those he speaks with.”   
I smiled. “He is a smart, darling young man. I should very much enjoy teaching him.”  
Sebastian stayed quiet in the duration of our trip to my new room, and I notice that he was being less charming than last night, and a bit more guarded. I decide not to say anything. I might be reading him wrong.  
I commit the path to memory, and once we reach my room, am pleased by what I see. My bed, with its white sheets, is simple but spacious. The walls are painted an off white, while the vanity and armoire were made of a beautiful dark wood. I had my own simple fireplace, with a small mantle. I would place one of my paintings on it, and if I have the money, a clock. There is a door that I suspect leads to the bathroom, and I have my own writing desk.  
“Is the room to your liking?”  
I spin around, a smile on my face. “Yes, very much so. It’s simple yet… comfortable.”  
“I am glad. What kind of butler would I be if I couldn’t get you settled in comfortably?”

 

I went through great pains to make sure that Sebastian Michaelis helped only with my books and writing materials, and had packed my clothes as quickly as I could into my closet.   
I caught him looking at me a few times, but I brushed it off as the butler trying to sum up the newest addition to the staff.  
He introduced me to the rather incompetent, yet quite charming, Mei Rin, Finnian, and Bardroy. I soon met Tanaka, who was what I thought Sebastian would be.  
Afterwards, he showed me around the manor, and I was able to memorize the layout of the house and gardens.   
The library was a true gem, and the horses were one of the best I have ever seen. I would have spent more time asking Sebastian about the many histories of this house, but alas, by the time we had finished the tour, it was time for him to prepare dinner.  
I excused myself from the kitchen and retreated into the library in an attempt to familiarize myself with it and to draft a test for Ciel to answer on the morrow.

I brought a piece of bread from the kitchen, and deemed it a sufficient enough dinner, and had thus surrendered myself to the allure of books, losing myself to them. By the time I had gained enough sense to retire to my room, it was already an hour past twelve.  
Despite me bringing the candle I used to read with me, I fear that I got lost a few times. The Phantomhive Manor seems bigger at night, and the halls seem to go on forever, so you can see why I was quite surprised when I heard the music of a violin.   
Entranced, I tried to follow it, and was not the least bit surprised when I found Sebastian playing the piece in a spacious room with a large glass window allowing the moon’s light in. It was a truly beautiful sight, and I could not believe that I had previously thought that he was a hellion. As soon as I saw him, though, he stopped and faced me.  
“That was a fine piece, Mr. Michaelis. Please don’t stop on my account.”   
Sebastian shook his head and began to gingerly pack the violin away. I felt my heart drop a little at this.   
“You should be sleeping, Madeline.”  
Oh, how I nearly melted at the way he said my name.   
“I’m quite sorry if I inconvenienced you. It is late, so perhaps I should go back to bed-”  
“You already know of my true nature.”

I stiffened. He did not question me, he already knew that I suspected. My readings were correct, after all. My heart dropped all the way down to my feet.  
“Mr. Michaelis,” I said, trying to keep my voice light, “I know you are a demon, but I have just met you. What could I possibly know about your nature?”   
At that moment, a dark cloud covered the moon and the only source of light was the candle I was holding. I could still see Sebastian Michaelis, but just barely. The rest of him was swallowed up by shadows.  
“Many things, dearest Madeline.”  
I frowned at the way he addressed me, at the words he said, and we stayed silent for a moment. I did not know what to say, and he looked like he wanted to say something, but we were quiet until the moon showed her face again. Mr. Michaelis’ eyes flashed fuchsia before he offered to take me back to my room. I could not turn down the request, and that night I learned that his room was right in front of mine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	3. Pancakes and Pistols

_“It’s such a shame that she’s a lady in everything except name.”_

_I walked past them by. If you don’t see them, they don’t exist, and if they don’t exist, they can’t hurt you._   
_The makings of the floor were of a beautiful wood of light color. Idly, I wondered how so much planks were massed produced._   
_I kept on walking, the wood passing with every step I took, and all those girls, with their lace fans and silk hands, kept talking._

_“Indeed. She’s pretty with that nose of hers, though I’m afraid it will just take her to the bed of some pot bellied noble.”_

_I did not allow myself the luxury of clenching my fists at those words. They were uncouth, beneath me. I am better than her at every subject. Who did she think she was, criticizing me for a nose that I was stuck with?_

_“Looks like that are only for the rich, you know.”_

_It would be so easy to strangle that girl with her own glove. I deftly observed its design: small stitching, a glossy finish. Chinese silk was a fine, durable silk. It was also easy to wash blood off it._

_“One day, she’s going to wish her hair was a dull brown instead of that inky black.”_

_Thank you for your concern, but I already hate my hair. Too much like Mum’s. I wish that I looked like Dad: a red head with too many freckles and jovial green eyes. But no, I had to have black hair and gray eyes. How very pretty, Aunt August had said during the holidays. How very brooding, retorted Granny, with her usual sniff and elitist air._

_“A pretty face is good and all, but one does wonder if there is anything happening behind closed doors, if you know what I mean.”_

_“She’s really nothing more than a troublesome slut.”_

_“One of these days, she’ll go whoring around.”_

_“I doubt she’ll even marry properly.”_

_“No dowry, that poor Madeline.”_

_“I hear she used to sleep with pigs.”_

_My pace quickened, and I wished to some God that I could outrun these girls, these voices. How naïve I was to think that I would ever find peace in this school. This was a breeding ground for elitists, and in a way, they were right. I would not and could not ever belong with them. I was blessed and cursed in the wrong places._   
_The chorus of insults intensified until it was all a flurry of shrieks and insults from ladies with veiled faces. My steps hurried into a brisk walk, a jog, an outright run, but no matter where I turned, no matter where I went, they were there, in all their finery, laughing and jeering at me because no matter what I did, I was beneath them. I ran and I ran and I ran, knowing it was all a dream, wanting it to end, until someone suddenly touched my arm._

I grabbed the pistol I hid under my pillow, and allowed my instincts to press the barrel to the intruder’s temple. Who the dickens thought it proper to touch a lady as she slept? I opened an eye, and saw Mr. Michaelis.  
He was wearing a smirk, one that I found positively insufferable because it highlighted my defects and enhanced his perfection. But there was another side to it, a sadistic one that was glad to have vexed me so early in the morning. I sighed and lowered the gun. Really, there was no use in trying to kill a demon, especially if he works for your employer.  
One cannot help their nature, I thought, and if Sebastian is dreadful because of it, then ce la vie.  
“A pleasant morning Sebastian. Pray tell what time it is.”  
He acquiesced and pulled at a silver pocket watch, yet I nevertheless had a feeling that he knew what time it was.  
“It is a quarter past seven, Miss Sinclair. The servants breakfast at eight, and the Earl at nine. I recommend you get ready for the day.”  
I nodded. “My class with Ciel is at three in the afternoon and shall be held in the library, am I correct?”  
Sebastian stood up straight and smiled a small smile that I thought suited him better than the smirk.  
“As ever, Miss Sinclair. Now please get ready, we run a tight ship in this manor.”  
I nodded, gesturing for him to leave. “Now, if you please Mr. Michaelis.”

His face began to do what was a hybrid smirk and smile. It was irritating, to say the least. “If I did what I pleased, you would be very upset, darling Madeline.”  
Sebastian’s voice became low and tempting, opening the floodgates of what had transpired last night. This man was a demon, capable of snapping my neck at any given moment, and yet here he is, standing over me with an expression I could not understand.  
“And here I thought you were a gentleman,” I retaliated, summoning an easy smile on my face when in reality I wanted to blush. “Mr. Michaelis, I would prefer it if we ignored whatever happened last night. Now, please leave so I may be decent.”  
Sebastian chuckled sinfully, but made his was to the door. “There is no fun in being decent, dearest Madeline.”  
He promptly left fast enough to evade a bullet to his head.  
“Scoundrel.”  
Years of training taught me not to trust any individual I could not hope to manipulate, and Sebastian Michaelis was the very epitome of that, and yet I wanted him near me. I wanted him to touch me. These were sentiments I have never experienced before; who would think that I would be attracted to a demon?  
I stood up, contemplating which clothes would suit me best for the day. The world does work in strange ways.

 

In the end I chose a navy blue walking dress with vermillion details and a lace underlay that ended in scallops. I had no doubt in my mind that wearing the Earl’s preferred colors were a good choice, though I myself prefer violet.  
My hair was fixed into a simple chignon; braids did not look as good on dark hair as it did on light hair. The only accessory I wore were pearl earrings, and as for make up, I decided on no rogue, light lipstick, and the tiniest hint of kohl. I gave myself a nod of approval; simple, professional, elegant. Exactly what was demanded of an Earl’s governess.  
Then I really got ready for the day.

Every dress I own has six pockets: two at each side hidden by the folds of the skirt, one at the back, and one built in to the inside of the corset. I had three pistols, and always brought extra rounds, six knives, one for each pocket, and, most importantly, my lace handkerchief, a bottle of perfume, and my fan.  
A lady always needed to be stylish, and an intelligencer always needed to be prepared.

 

When I reached the kitchen, it was eight o’clock and the smell of pancakes was in the air. So was tobacco, most probably courtesy of Bardroy. The soldier seemed to be genuine and decent, but I could not help but dislike him. I don’t know whether it was because of his lack of manners or his ignorance of the fact that he lacks manners, but I felt a bit guilty that I disliked him for so snobbish a reason.  
An undignified squeak, most likely Mei Rin, cut through as I entered the kitchen, drawing my attention to the plates up in the air. Training kicked in.  
There were twelve plates: five to my left, three to my right, and four behind me. It was white with a lace pattern, and the material was thick; ceramic, then, not porcelain. The brand, nonetheless, was Wedgwood, so these were still important plates. There are five of us, so why are there twelve plates in the air? I sighed, because Mei Rin knocked them.  
I moved into action, seamlessly timing myself to the speed of descent belonging to each individual plate. I caught the first three with my right hand, place them down to catch the next six in quick succession, and since the last three were far too out of reach, I had to make a dive for it, using my thick skirts as a cushion. I caught them right in time, before realizing that I had wastefully spent energy catching plates.  
“Miss Madeline, are you alright?” Said a sweet voice. It was Finny, the gardener. It was quite strange to have the household staff with the outdoors staff, but Sebastian told me of Ciel Phantomhive’s peculiar case. In addition, Sebastian Michaelis is a demon, so he can most probably do more in one day than most people in a lifetime.  
But Finny’s presence, no matter how pleasant, was still strange.  
“I’m quite alright, Mr. Finnian. And I’d rather you call me by my surname, dear.”  
I automatically felt bad for correcting the blonde boy when he decided to be chivalrous and help me up.  
“If that makes you feel better,” he said, grin not leaving his face,” then I ‘spose I better follow, huh?”  
Oh dear Lord, I thought. When that boy grows up, he will have a gaggle of women following him everywhere.  
With Finnian’s help, I stood.  
“That was quite the performance, Miss Sinclair.”  
I fixed my skirts, looking up to see Sebastian bake the pancakes. How peculiar… Oh, wait. Bardroy is not allowed to cook.  
“Do you require assistance, Mr. Michaelis?”  
“No, thank you, Miss Sinclair.” He smiled a crisp, crescent moon smile, gesturing to the table on which Mei Rin, Bardroy and Finnian sat. “I merely wish for you to enjoy your meal.”

 

 

Three o’clock came quickly enough, and I met Ciel in the library. He was precisely on schedule. Good, because I have a schedule.  
I gestured him towards the chair beside me and handed him a stack of papers. He shot me a raised eyebrow, and I explained.  
“That is a standardized test, my lord, with questions concerning geography, history, languages, literature, arithmetic, and etiquette. Although I will time you, it is not necessary to answer everything. You may skip questions you don’t know. This merely for me to see where your strengths and weaknesses lay.”  
He still sported a raised eyebrow. The boy was skeptical; I could work with that.  
“How long will you time me, Miss Sinclair?” He looked at the papers as if considering their worth.

“An hour and a half, my lord.” My voice was steady and confident.

“And how long is this test?” His gaze shifted to the pencils beside the stack of papers, trying to find flaws in my design. He wrinkled his nose when he found none.

“One hundred pages, my lord.” I noticed the frown on his face. “Unless you want it to be easier, my lord, that can be arranged-”

“No. This will do.”

I smiled: just as I thought. I checked the grandfather clock across us, Ciel partaking use of one of the many pencils at his disposal. The large hand reached twelve, signaling a new minute, and I bid my pupil go.

Ciel was a quick thinker, and I was impressed by the speed in which he answered the questions. Some of them were in other languages, the algebraic questions sometimes entangled with grammar, and geography was focused mainly on India, Africa, and the Americas. Every once in a while, he would pause, as if contemplating a trick question, and I felt a surge of pride. There were not many young men of quality who were cautious enough to worry over a trick question. My pupil was not one of those dandies.  
Once Ciel had finished a considerable number of pages, I picked up a pen and started checking his papers. A fine young man, he was. The Earl Phantomhive could have become a great spy, though I suppose in a way, he is one. Or rather, Sebastian is.  
I checked the clock. It just struck four, and Sebastian had not come in with the tea cart yet. If Mr. Michaelis were human, I would have thought nothing of it, but now that I know what a self-proclaimed perfectionist he is, it troubled me a bit. I closed my eyes. There was no sound of Mei Rin or Bardroy, and there was barely any ruckus in the gardens…  
I look outside, and see just the tiniest flash of metal. A gun. Was it an assassination attempt? I looked harder, spotting broken branches and glimpses of shirts and hats. No, there was quite the number of men. Someone was planning to get Ciel.  
“My lord, please hide in the grandfather clock. Someone is trying to kidnap you.”  
He stood, confused. I pushed him into the large contraption.  
“Not a single peep out of you, my little gentleman.”  
The window crashed, and even though I anticipated it, I shrieked and fell to the ground. Backwards, of course, so that my dress would not get too wrinkled.  
Men started going in the room via the open window, until finally a stout one with an unfortunate lack of hair, crouched down. He smelled of cheap Italian cigars.  
“Where is the little Earl?”  
I summoned my tears. “I-I don’t know. He left this morning fo-for London, he s-said something about the Queen, I-”  
“Bullshit, we did not see him go anywhere.”  
“He-he left in disguise!” I began to sob, hard, putting my face in my hands. If there was anything that could soften an Italian rogue’s heart, it was the tears of a lady. Reminded them of their dear Mama. Or so I hoped.  
“L-lord Phantomhive said n-not to tell anyone a-and I was made to promise him-” I continued to unintelligently ramble on, and judging by the looks on their faces, I knew that they thought I was the weak link in the house and were planning to hold me for ransom. Had some trouble with the others, did they? Wanted something from Ciel, did they?  
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the grandfather clock perfectly still. Ciel had not contacted Sebastian, so he was probably going along with the ‘have Maddy kidnapped by crazy Italians!’ plan.  
He wanted me to gather information, most likely. I felt more than a hint of pride in his intelligence. Well, I best be starting then.  
I fluttered my eyelashes prettily, scanning the men around Baldy, catching a flash of rope. I inwardly smiled before I willed myself to faint.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a bit of the filler, but I wanted to get into Maddie's head more. But I promise you, more action next chapter!


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